


After All

by hunters_retreat



Series: Further Interruptions [20]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alphonse is the best little brother ever, Co-dependence, Ed is a mess, M/M, Mustang is a mess, Mustang is healing, Post-Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 12:25:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: “Where is he?”  Anyone who thought Mustang had lost his fire after three months of imprisonment never saw him when he couldn’t find Ed.  The one thing Alphonse knew about Mustang right now, was that Ed’s obsession to get Mustang back on his feet was rivaled only by Mustang’s need to keep Ed safe.





	After All

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by kzellr. Because she is awesome and keeps on ticking when I send her a crazy number of stories to work on :P

“Damn it, Al, I just … I can’t …”  He cut himself off as he stared at his hands.

Alphonse hated it.  His brother’s shoulders were tight and his fingers were curled, knuckles white, against his thighs.  Before he’d looked down, Alphonse had seen the way his brows had been furrowed and the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“He’s still having nightmares?” Alphonse asked.

It’d been six months since General Roy Mustang had disappeared.  Three months since he’d been found, tortured and broken, mumbling a single phrase over and over again.  Two months since he’d been well enough to go home and Ed had moved into Mustang’s house to take care of him. 

One month of care in the hospital had brought Mustang out of his self-imposed shell and he’d seemed to have recovered well to anyone who didn’t know him.  To those that did, the General was still emotionally reeling from whatever had happened and he wasn’t talking about it.  Ed had managed to get himself into Mustang’s home somehow and even the General wasn’t stubborn enough to fight Ed when he so badly needed help.  Even if Ed couldn’t get Mustang to talk about his ordeal, the man still needed physical aid. 

Alphonse knew it was a bad idea.  It had been three years since he had followed his brother to Aerugo, away from Amestris and a broken heart.  It’d taken him almost a year before Ed had even looked at anyone else.  When he finally found something more than casual, he’d fallen into bed with another Amestrian soldier.  Tate had been good to Ed, but Alphonse knew it was asking for trouble.  There were too many similarities that Ed refused to acknowledge.  In the end, it had ended poorly and Ed had been heartbroken a second time.

In some ways, Alphonse blamed Mustang for both of Ed’s heartbreaks.  It probably wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t help it.  Tate had been good for Ed, outside of Al’s misgivings, right up until the day that he found out who Ed was.  Who Ed had worked for.  And when Tate began to push to be introduced to Ed’s old boss, everything went to hell.

Five months after Tate and Ed broke up, Ed admitted to going to coffee with Mustang.  It was one of the worst fights they’d ever had.  Alphonse knew it was a mistake.  He knew that Ed had never gotten over his feelings for his former C.O. and that any ‘getting together’ would just lead to more trouble.

It never became anything else.  Two months of random coffee dates, with Ed coming home smiling and lighter than Alphonse had seen him since before the whole affair had started three years before.  It didn’t make Alphonse feel any better.  In fact, every time Ed came home with that particularly goofy grin on his face, Al worried a little more.

And when Mustang had gone missing, his brother had become obsessed with finding him.  If Hawkeye, who had been leading the search for him, hadn’t stepped in and asked for his help officially, Alphonse was pretty sure they’ve have sent him to the brig for insubordination.  Alphonse was also aware that Armstrong had probably talked to Hawkeye to make it happen. 

Now?  Alphonse was just tired. 

And his brother needed him now, more than ever.

“Ed, you can’t heal him.”

“You think I don’t know that, Al?” he demanded.  Ed was so angry, but under that was the absolute fear that Al knew was consuming his brother.  What if he lost him?  What if, after everything else had happened, Ed lost Mustang now, to this?

“He’s doing better, Ed,” he tried to placate him.  “You know that.  I was there too, when you got him back.  He was damn near feral.  And I know you feel responsible since you were the only one he would let near him, but you have to take care of yourself too, or he won’t be able to lean on you.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d used Mustang against Ed to try to get his brother to sleep or eat.  It usually worked.

“You don’t get it.  No one does.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Forget it.”

And this was where Alphonse always lost the fight.  Ed felt responsible for Mustang for some reason.  No one knew why, but they all saw it.  Hawkeye had even come to him and asked if he needed her to intervene, for Ed’s own health, but he’d turned down the offer. 

Ed had always been the obsessive type.  That Alphonse could say that with human lips was proof in and of itself.  Ed’s current obsession was getting Mustang back on his feet again.

“Ed.”  He took a deep breath and let it go.  New tactic.  “Look, he’s sleeping now.  Take a nap on the couch in the library.  You’ll hear him if he needs you.  I’ll make something that can wait to eat.  Something you can heat up when you have time.  How about some stew?  You like stew.  It would be good for Mustang too,” he added as an afterthought.

“Yeah?” Ed asked. 

Ed wasn’t much of a cook and Alphonse could see how thin his brother was getting.  Nothing compared to Mustang, of course, but Alphonse had come over more than once to find Ed washing down crackers with water because he wouldn’t take the time to make food for himself.

“The doctors said he needed more protein, right?  To gain his physical stamina back?  To gain more weight?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“I’ll make it heavy on the meat then,” Alphonse said.  “Now, go get some sleep and I’ll cook.”

Ed’s eyes trailed up to the ceiling where Alphonse knew Mustang was sleeping.   “Brother, you’ll get better sleep if you’re not in the room with him and you know it.  You need to keep up your stamina too.  If I hear anything, I’ll come wake you.  Trust me.”

“I do, Al.  I just, he keeps having nightmares and he won’t tell me about it.  He just … screams and he says … “ Ed let out a deep breath.  “Yeah.  You’re right.  I could probably use some sleep.  I’m going to crash.  Wake me up when he needs me.”

Not if.  When. 

Alphonse watched as his brother walked up the stairs and he followed through the hallway to make sure his brother listened.  Of course, he turned into the bedroom instead of the library.  Alphonse gave it five minutes before he was about to drag his brother out of the bedroom he shared with Mustang now, but as he was about to head up, his brother came back out.  Without noticing Alphonse at the base of the stairs watching, Ed went into the library, leaving both doors open.

For once in his life, Alphonse wasn’t worried about his brother reading in the library instead of sleeping.

He let out a deep breath of relief and headed to the kitchen.  He’d call Gracia and Maria today and see if the two would be willing to help him keep a steady stream of nutritious meals that Ed could heat up coming into the house.

With that in mind, he set about making a thick, beefy stew that both Ed and Mustang could eat. 

He relaxed into the ministrations of preparing the meal and had everything simmering before he heard a noise upstairs.  He crept quietly up until he was staring in the library where his brother was sleeping deeply on the couch.  Alphonse left the room and crossed the hall to where Mustang was sleeping.  He found a spare blanket and took it back to Ed, covering his brother without waking him.

He heard a sound again and went back to Mustang.  The man was sitting up in his bed, looking around wildly. 

“He’s fine,” Alphonse said before Mustang could start to ask. 

“Where is he?”  Anyone who thought Mustang had lost his fire after three months of imprisonment never saw him when he couldn’t find Ed.  The one thing Alphonse knew about Mustang right now, was that Ed’s obsession to get Mustang back on his feet was rivaled only by Mustang’s need to keep Ed safe. 

“I got him to sleep on the couch in the library.  I was just in, checking on him.  Trust me, General.  My brother is okay.  He needs his sleep though, so please, leave him be for a few minutes.”

“But he’s okay.”

Alphonse let out a deep breath.  “He is.”  Alphonse was the only person Mustang would trust when it came to Ed.  It was why he visited as often as he did.  It was the only time the two would be separated for more than a few minutes.  It was … really not healthy … but the doctors all agreed that the dependency would ease away in time.

Idiots.

“Is there anything I can get you?”

As much as Alphonse blamed Mustang for the hurt that had befallen his brother, he didn’t hate the man.  He couldn’t.  He’d done too much for them when they were younger.  He’d been too much a part of his life to be able to hate him.  And Alphonse understood, all too well, the demons that Mustang carried.  No soldier, no matter how marginally you called yourself that, was totally unaware. 

Alphonse had his nightmares too, and Ed had kept him from the worst.  Mustang, with all his manipulations, had saved Ed from as much of the nastiness as he could.  Mustang had borne the brunt of it himself, killing when Ed couldn’t so that Ed wouldn’t have to.  Calling the shots so Ed never had to.  He’d protected them both as much as possible.

“I … could I trouble you for some tea?”

Alphonse gave him a small smile.  “Of course.  I could bring up a few books for you?  Alex came by yesterday with some new things from the library.  Fictional tales, he said.  He thought it might be good for Ed to read something that wasn’t alchemy related but he seemed to balk at that.  You know Ed.  Maybe … if you were reading it, he’d take a look?”

Because Alphonse knew Mustang wouldn’t talk alchemy right now.  He wouldn’t even look at his own gloves when Hawkeye had asked him to keep them close in case someone attacked.  Maybe the books would give the two something to talk about.  Maybe, having something to start the conversation would lead to lighter talks and a way out of this dark place for the two of them.

“Since Hawkeye won’t bring me any work, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get caught up on some literature.  I used to love to read, you know?  Though it was mostly poetry back in the day.”

“I didn’t know that.  I have a collection of poetry books from Xing, if you’re interested?”

Mustang smiled and for the first time since Al had returned to Amestris, Alphonse saw it reach the man’s eyes.  “I am actually fond of Xingese poetry.  I would like that very much.”

Alphonse smiled.  “I’ll bring them over when I come to visit tomorrow.  I’ll get your tea now, and maybe a snack?  I’ve made some stew for you and Ed tonight.  You’ll make sure he eats, won’t you?  He’d been losing weight.”

“He has?”  Alphonse just nodded and Mustang let out a deep sigh.  “I’ll take it up with him.  Just because I’m a mess doesn’t mean he can do that to himself.  One of us has to be useful.”

Alphonse felt the recrimination in his voice and wanted to remind the man that he was only three months into a very long recovery period, but he knew it would be a waste of breath.  Even when Father had blinded him on the Promised Day, Mustang had come up swinging. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he walked out.

Maybe they needed to find something to fight for.  Maybe, if he played his cards right, Alphonse could kill two birds with one stone.  Because Mustang needed something to worry about other than himself.  He was a fighter and he needed a cause.  And Ed needed someone to make sure he was taking care of himself.  He needed someone that could make him see reason, or at least find a way to get him to do it against his self-sacrificing nature.

It was his best bet, to turn the two on each other, in that way.  Make sure they took care of the other.  Because Mustang was stubborn enough to refuse food if Ed wasn’t eating too.  He was obsessive enough to read an entire library of books to find a way to engage Ed’s overly active mind.  He was caring enough to see how much Ed needed to be with him every moment until he was able to care for himself.  And he was manipulative enough and knew Ed well enough to use everything in his arsenal to make Ed healthier. 

If it gave Mustang the fire to get back on his feet again, then they’d all be better served.

As Alphonse went back to the kitchen, he started the water to heat.  He stirred the stew as he waited.  Something had to give.  Something had to get better.  Because Alphonse couldn’t see them like that again.

He closed his eyes and tried to avoid the image that had been plaguing his own nightmares for the past three months.

Mustang, crouched low to the ground, hand bleeding from a deeply cut transmutation circle, naked and covered in bruises and blood, open scars and wounds that Alphonse couldn’t even begin to decipher, even with his medical training in Xing.  The soldiers in the room all backed against the wall because he was a danger to them all.  Hawkeye in the center and every time she tried to approach, flames roared to life around Mustang, protective and all too telling of how damaged his mind was. 

He couldn’t concentrate enough to perform alchemy without a circle, so he’d carved his familiar sign back on his hand again.  He couldn’t recognize the woman who had stood by his side for so long and protected him.  When they spoke to him, he couldn’t answer; he didn’t seem to understand what was said to him.

And when they got close enough, they heard the words he spoke over and over again. 

“Roy,” Ed had sounded shattered, just by the name, and when he’d looked back at Alphonse, his eyes were broken.

Ed walked forward and Alphonse stayed at his side. 

“Ed, you can’t go any closer,” Hawkeye warned.

“Alphonse, stay back,” Ed whispered as he took a step forward anyway. 

Roy’s head was down but his whole body was tense where he waited for the next attack.  Ed moved slowly before he crouched down.

“Never gold,” Mustang began his litany again.  “Never give you gold.  Never gold.”

“Roy,” his brother said his name clearly, with a voice devoid of the break Alphonse had heard just moments ago.

“I’m here.  It’s Ed.  Look at me.  I’m here, right where I’m supposed to be, right?  The darkness, it’s behind us now.  You just gotta open your eyes, remember?  I’m right here.”

And Mustang did.  And when Ed took off his jacket and stepped close to put it around the wounded man’s shoulders, Mustang let him with eyes and mouth open wide in surprise.  And when Ed pulled Mustang into his arms, the General buried his head in Ed’s neck. 

From that moment on, Mustang had become his brother’s responsibility.  From that moment on, Roy had barely been able to let Ed out of his sight.

From that moment on, Alphonse understood that something had happened between the General and his brother that none of them understood.

So Alphonse worried non-stop and checked up on them daily.  Someone from the team came every day, sharing gossip and news when they could, about anything that didn’t make the General turn away and feign sleep. 

Gracia came to visit every day as well, bringing Elysia on the days when Alphonse called and said she might be able to see a bit of her Uncle Roy under the beaten man. 

Tate … had been transferred to Briggs.  Because he’d heard about the whole thing and asked if Ed needed to talk to a friend since the gossip had hit the halls before Mustang had been fully admitted.  Alphonse had been willing to give the guy some credit for checking up on his ex, but when he’d casually mentioned he could drive Ed around, to see Mustang or whatever, Alphonse saw the real measure of his appearance.

Alphonse had sent both Armstrongs a fruit basket for their help.  Alex’s wife Sheska had made an apple pie and brought it over for Al the next week when she visited.  General Armstrong hadn’t sent anything.  Miles, on the other hand, had sent a postcard a few weeks later detailing the new training they’d decided to implement for anyone that had arrived at Briggs to help acclimate them to the environment.  Alphonse had the postcard tucked away happily in his favorite book.

Speaking of which.

He prepared the tea and set it on a tray with some small finger sandwiches, along with the book he’d brought to read for himself.  He added some biscuits on a plate and took them up as well.  They weren’t exactly nutritious but the doctors said anything Mustang ate would help him gain some much needed weight. 

He went upstairs and Mustang had propped some pillows behind his back.  As Alphonse came in, the General’s eyes stayed trained on the doorway. 

Alphonse set the tray on the bed and poured two cups of tea.  “I don’t know when you last ate, so I made some sandwiches also.  I hope you don’t mind that I’m joining you.  I didn’t get a chance to eat before I came over to check on Ed.”

Mustang looked at him then and gave him a small smile.  “Thank you, for taking care of him.”

Like Ed had become Mustang’s responsibility somewhere along the line as well.

“Yeah, well, he’s my brother.  We’re kind of a package deal.”

“I had noticed.” 

It was the closest to himself as Alphonse had heard him since he’d been found.  “I don’t know if you’re interested, but I had this with me.  It’s old, but they say it never hurts to reread the classics.”

He showed Mustang the book of Xingese poetry he had and Mustang took it from him.  Al took a bite of his sandwich and watched as Mustang reverently opened the front cover.  He ran his finger over the title page and let out a soft sigh.  “It’s a beautiful collection,” he said softly.  “I would argue that the first is possibly the most beautiful poem ever written.”

Alphonse happened to agree, oddly enough, but he thought if he did that might just end the conversation.  Now that Alphonse had seen even a glimpse of the man’s former self, he needed more.  Just to be contrary he said, “I don’t know.  I’m partial to Shangtu’s Enlightenment of the Senses.”

It was another beautiful piece of work but there was something bittersweet in the work Mustang had pointed out that made the ending so much better. 

Mustang gave him a slightly disapproving look.  “Shangtu?  It can’t have escaped your mind that his imagery of his beloved is a short hop away from plagiarism.”  He began to extoll the virtues of Fayushi’s Gold on the Hilltops at some length.  As he did, Alphonse randomly handed him a sandwich, which he ate without seeming to realize.  They debated back and forth until the plate was empty and the teapot needed to be refilled, and his brother came stumbling in, sleepy but looking so much better than he had, two hours ago when Alphonse had sent him away. 

“Roy?”

Alphonse knew better than to stick around while Ed made sure that the General was okay after his absence.  “I’ll bring up more tea,” he said as he took the tray, minus the book.

“Alphonse, maybe some sandwiches?” Mustang suggested.  “I’m fairly certain Ed didn’t eat lunch before he took his nap.”

“I’m fine, Bastard.”

“Well maybe I’m hungry,” Mustang said.

Alphonse walked down the stairs with a smile on his face.  Now that Mustang had noticed that Ed wasn’t taking care of himself, Alphonse was pretty sure that would be taken care of.  Not that he wouldn’t continue to check himself every day, but it was one less worry.

He was rather pleased with himself.  He hadn’t expected a breakthrough by means of Xingese poetry, but Alphonse would read every book the library had if it meant he could see the General like that again.

Alright, so his brother wasn’t the only obsessive one in the family.  But today, he’d seen something he’d thought lost since the General had been taken.   Today, he saw something to hope for.

Today, he wondered if maybe his brother wouldn’t someday get his happily ever after, after all. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
